You smiled
by musician95
Summary: This is what really happened with Ringer and Zombie the night before Ringer left the motel.
„Ringer! Ringer, you gotta get up and come with me _right now_ , okay? It's… It's Ben."

I woke from the shrill sound of Sullivan's voice and the blinding beam of a flashlight directed at my face. It took me a while to understand what was going on – I couldn't even remember having fallen asleep the other night.

It had been our fourth day in the motel, and with everything we'd left behind at Camp Haven, sleep didn't come easy. Every time I closed my eyes, I would see images of Vosch and the P&D hangar and supposed Teds lighting up green in my eyepiece. So yeah, I was actually surprised that I'd managed to fall asleep at all.

When I first opened my eyes, I guess part of me was still back in Camp Haven, caught in some crazy delusional nightmare that I couldn't really recall. But then I saw the worried expression on Sullivan's face and heard the hysteria in her voice, and I finally registered her words.

 _It's Ben._

I sat up in bed and pushed my hair back from my face. Sullivan kept pulling at my arm, trying to get me to hurry up.

"I don't know what's going on with him… His whole body's shaking and he's having trouble breathing, I think…" She shook her head. "I have no idea what to do, okay? Then he called your name."

I let her pull me along into the other room, still shaking off the last remains of sleep.

"He called my name?" I repeated.

I knew Zombie's wound was causing him trouble, and obviously he hadn't been well since our escape from Camp Haven, but this just seemed confusing.

When we stepped into the room, we were greeted by darkness and Zombie's muffled cries. Nugget was sitting next to Zombie on the bed, looking slightly freaked out.

"Cassie? What's wrong with Ben?"

"He's gonna be fine, Sams." Sullivan shot me a look and pressed the flashlight into my hand before she turned to her brother, gently pulling him off the bed. "You should go now, okay? Just go sleep with the others next door."

I stood there a good three feet away from Zombie's bed and stared at his stirring figure. He was shaking pretty badly, and the sound of his breathing reminded me of a drowning person gasping for air.

Sullivan closed the door behind her brother. "So? What do we do now?"

I decided to ignore her. I went over to the bed, turned off the flashlight and placed it on the bedside table. Then I seized Zombie's shoulders, trying to pin him down onto the mattress and make him lie still for a moment.

"Zombie?" I cleared my throat. "Hey, can you hear me?"

His eyes fluttered open and then shut again. He didn't see me.

Even in the darkness, I could make out the sweat on his face and the messy brown hair clinging to his forehead. When I pulled away the blanket, the area around his wound was covered in black and purple spots.

"Ringer?" Sullivan piped up from behind me. "We need to _do_ something!"

"Shut up, okay?" I snapped back. "You're not helping here."

I didn't wanna offend her, but this whole situation was actually getting to my head. After all, it wasn't just any person – it was _Zombie_. And I was the one responsible for this.

"The wound's infected", I told Sullivan matter-of-factly, all the while thinking: _the wound_ I _gave him._

I brought my hand up to his forehead. "He's feverish. As for the breathing… Does he have asthma or something?"

Sullivan shrugged. "No idea."

"Anyway. I think it's some kind of panic attack."

"Okay, so…?"

"So we need him to wake up", I explained, my eyes locked on Zombie's face. "We have to slow down his breathing."

I sat down on the edge of the bed. "Zombie? Hey there, any chance you can hear me?"

My hand was on his cheek now, burning up by the seething heat emanating from his skin. The more my eyes got used to the darkness, the more details I could make out in his face, like the flurry movement of his eyelashes or the precise outlines of his lips as he kept opening and closing his mouth, sucking in bits of air.

"Can you get me something cool?" I asked Sullivan without turning around. "Anything will do."

"Sure. Be right back."

When the door snapped shut after her, I took a deep breath. Then I began shaking Zombie's shoulders in order to wake him up.

"You gotta open your eyes, Zombie! Come on!"

Minutes later, Sullivan came back with a wet piece of cloth and a first aid kit she'd probably found somewhere in the hallway.

"Thought we might need this", she explained, but I just pulled the cloth from her hand and pressed it against Zombie's forehead.

"You're welcome", Sullivan muttered sarcastically, crossing her arms in front of her chest. God, that girl was really getting on my nerves sometimes.

At least Zombie seemed to react to the cold. His eyelids fluttered open, and from what I could tell, this time he was actually waking up.

"Thank God, Zombie." The relief in my voice was a surprise even to me. I realized I hadn't felt so relieved in quite a while.

Zombie's body kept shaking and my hands remained on his shoulders, trying to keep him in a steady position. He looked at me through dark eyes, still struggling for air.

"Okay. Okay, easy there! You have to calm down now; think you can do that?"

"Ringer", he croaked out, but I shook my head.

"No talking. Just breathe, okay?"

His hands grasped both of mine, and though I briefly felt the urge to pull away from him, I didn't.

"It's okay", I told him, my voice trembling just the tiniest bit. "You're having a panic attack, but it's all right, it's nothing, you're gonna be okay –"

Zombie stared right back at me with a desperate expression. I could feel my heart pumping in my chest, probably twice as fast as usual.

What was I supposed to do? What _could_ I possibly do to stop this, to make him calm down?

 _You're Ringer, for God's sake,_ I heard a small voice in my head whisper. _You always know what to do. Use your goddamn brain, girl!_

A brain that obviously wasn't working whenever things got messed up.

"Okay, so we're gonna do this together", I said finally, squeezing Zombie's hands. At the same time, I sent out a silent prayer to a god I didn't even believe existed: _Please let it work. Please let it work. PleasePleasePlease._

"Just breathe with me! In… and out. In… and out. In…"

This was all my fault. If it weren't for that damn wound in his stomach… And why did I have to shoot him in the first place? We could've figured out something else to sneak Zombie back into camp; something other than _nearly_ getting him killed.

"In… out." I swallowed. "Okay, Zombie? Look at me. The only thing you focus on is me. Just do what I do. You breathe in… and out."

"Is it working?" Sullivan asked quietly, stepping closer to the bed. "Oh my gosh, Ringer, I think it's working!"

And it was.

I could've cried from relief, but instead, I smiled. Yes, you've got me right: I _smiled._

Sullivan raised an eyebrow at that. "Wow. I thought smiling wasn't your thing."

But I was so focused on Zombie that I didn't even hear her. He was alive, he was okay, and that's all that mattered.

It wasn't until Sullivan's voice lost all its sarcasm that I actually began listening to her.

She was sitting on the other side of the bed, right across from me, looking just as relieved as I did. And when she nodded at me and mouthed a silent "Thank you", I could feel that she really meant it.

Then she turned to Zombie, gently touching his arm. "Remember the other night when you told me that Ringer's got what it takes? Well, she does."

She was dead serious, but I kept shaking my head.

"Don't be ridiculous", I murmured. "I didn't do anything."

Zombie smirked at this, exchanging a knowing look with Sullivan. He was still focused on his breathing, trying to keep up a steady rhythm, and my hands were still on his shoulders to feel the soft rise and fall of his chest.

"I have to go look for Sam", Sullivan announced then. "You okay staying here for a while?"

I nodded, but couldn't help wondering why she was retreating so deliberately if she actually had a thing for Zombie. From the way these two interacted since our escape, I'd just supposed there was something going on between them. After all, I could easily imagine Zombie being the popular guy back at their high school, the guy whose smile made rows of girls secretly swoon over him. And I could imagine Sullivan being one of them.

But even if it might sound crazy, I would've been okay with it. Their story went back to a point before all of this crap had happened, a point where we still had a normal life and school and crushes to worry about. It was okay to try and get back to that world, I guess.

Evan Walker was gone and even if he wasn't, I didn't trust him. Sullivan shouldn't pick him over Zombie when Zombie was really the most trustworthy person I'd ever met.

And yet that's exactly what she did. She left the room still certain that Evan Walker would come back to her someday. She left the room touching my shoulder and whispering very quietly: "Don't mess this up."

Or maybe I'd just imagined that.

However, after Sullivan was gone, I suddenly found it hard to look at Zombie. I asked him if he needed anything, but he declined.

"So…" I took a deep breath, trying to move some of the bangs out of my eyes. "Looks like you've got some serious infection."

"It's fine", he replied weakly. "It doesn't even hurt that much."

"I can tell when you're lying, you know. Chess players are pretty good with facial expressions."

Zombie remained silent.

"We gotta figure something out", I told him. "We need someone to take care of that wound. Like, professionally."

"Dumbo knows what he does", Zombie murmured, though we both knew that wasn't true.

"Bullshit. He's a thirteen-year-old kid who doesn't know shit about medical care."

I could've said something nicer, but I guess I was just in the mood for insults. Actually, they seemed like my only protection sometimes.

"You have a fever", I went on. "And you're delusional. We can't sit by and wait for the next panic attack of yours, okay? We can't…"

 _We can't lose you._

But I couldn't say that out loud. The mere thought of losing Zombie seemed too painful to stand, and the knowledge that it would be my fault was only making things worse.

The delusions, the fever, those breathing issues – it all went back to the wound in his stomach, where _my_ bullet had hit him. If Zombie died, I'd be the one who killed him.

"I'm not delusional", Zombie protested. "I… had a nightmare."

When he coughed into his sleeve, it didn't sound good. The fabric came away sprinkled with blood, though I pretended not to notice.

"A nightmare?" I asked quietly. Like I said, nightmares had been a common thing to me since our escape.

Zombie nodded. "And then… I suppose I just panicked."

"What was it about?"

When I looked at him, he avoided my gaze. Just stared straight up at the ceiling.

"You", he said finally. Then he broke out into another cough, and I closed my eyes to escape the whole situation, if only for a second.

"I was back at Camp Haven, in that room with Dr Pam", Zombie explained. "There was that kid who she told me was infested by an Other…"

"…and you killed him", I finished his sentence. "We all did, Zombie. It was a stupid simulation, you know that."

"No, that's not it. It was… it…" He shook his head, apparently unable to find the right words.

I looked down at him, at his tight jaw and the glassiness of his eyes, and I wondered what could've possibly upset him so much that he ended up having a panic attack in his sleep.

"Hey, it's fine – just forget it", I said. "I don't want you to… You know."

"No, you don't understand!" Zombie insisted. "It was you _,_ Ringer. I killed that kid and then when I looked up again, it was _you_."

I didn't know what to say. I was afraid that he might panic again, so I quickly reached for his hand. It was a gut reaction and the only thing I could do, really.

"I'm here." My voice was barely more than a whisper. "I'm right here, okay? That was nothing. Just a pipe dream, that's all."

"I know", he whispered back.

Then he met my gaze, and there was so much sadness and pain in his eyes that I almost turned away from him. Almost.

Instead I reached for the cloth on his forehead and wiped away some of the sweat on his face. He was still burning up, obviously.

"Can you do something for me?" Zombie's voice broke into the silence.

"Anything."

Too late did I realize what I'd said there. I'd made a promise to him, and a promise is not a thing you give away easily. In a world like this, promises are priceless.

"Lie down with me", Zombie said. "I'm freezing in here."

I pursed my lips. "Probably the fever. I can get you another blanket, if –"

"Just come here", he repeated, patting the spot next to him. "Please, Ringer."

I guess I didn't have a choice. I had put a bullet into his stomach and in that moment, I would've done anything to make up for it.

And so I climbed under the covers and positioned myself next to him, my head resting just underneath his shoulder. It felt awkward at first, but at the same time, there was something truly good about it. When he put his arm around me, it seemed like he'd done it a hundred times already. It seemed _right,_ somehow.

I closed my eyes and for a brief moment, all I could hear was Zombie's heart beating steadily right next to my ear. Still, the cold of his body was undeniable. There were little tremors running through his arms and legs, and no matter how tight I wrapped myself around him, they just wouldn't stop.

After a few minutes of silence, Zombie whispered a soft "Thank you" into my ear. I could feel his lips moving against my skin and was so startled by the intimacy of it that I thought I had probably misheard him.

"What?" I shook my head. "I _shot_ you, Zombie!"

"Because I told you to", he replied. "Plus, you came back for me and saved my goddamn life."

"Still. If it weren't for me, you'd be fine now."

"It was the only way I could sneak back into camp and get Nugget. Don't beat yourself up about it, okay? I'm gonna be fine."

I swallowed. "No. You're not."

Silence again. And then I remembered it.

"Those caves you mentioned yesterday", I began cautiously. "How far do you think they are from here?"

I could feel him shrug. "Don't know. Why, do you think we should go there?"

"There might be other survivors. There might be someone who could help you."

"This is not about me", Zombie protested. "We can't just go there without knowing anything about this place."

"Which is why I'm going to scout it out first", I announced matter-of-factly.

Zombie didn't answer right away.

I knew that he wouldn't like my idea, but it was the only thing that made any sense, considering our current situation. We couldn't stay in the motel during the winter, and if the caves turned out to be safe, we had to take our chances and go as long as Zombie was still able to make it there.

"It's too dangerous", he said, just like I'd expected him to. "You don't even know how to get there. And if there _are_ other survivors, they'll think you're a Silencer or something. They'll kill you, Ringer."

"Well, what if it's our only option?" I replied. "Think about it. We'll freeze to death if we stay here, and there's nothing we can do about your infection. So we have to leave this place either way."

"Yeah, but... I don't…"

There was something about Zombie's voice that made me turn around. I rolled onto my stomach and looked up at him. His eyes were filled with tears; he didn't even try to hide them. He just reached for my face and tucked some lost strands of hair back behind my ear.

"I don't want you to go", he said gently.

I sighed. "I'm gonna be fine, Zombie. Seriously."

"You never know what's waiting for you out there."

"So? You wanna stay here and die from starvation? Or wait for the infection to kill you?" I was beginning to sound hysterical, but I couldn't help it.

I _had_ to save him, and I was willing to do whatever it would take. I wasn't afraid of the Others anymore; the thought of Zombie dying seemed far more terrifying to me.

"I'm not letting this happen to you", I told him, my voice about to break. "This squad needs you. _I_ need you. And I'm going to scout out these caves, with or without your permission."

"Well." He didn't know what to say, and there wasn't anything he could've said to hold me back. Zombie seemed to understand that.

"So when do you wanna leave?" he asked simply.

"As soon as possible", I said.

"Tomorrow?"

There was so much concern in his eyes that I had to look away for a second. I cleared my throat. "It would be for the best, don't you think?"

"Yeah. Of course." His voice sounded strangely flat, as though he was trying to keep all the emotion out of it.

"And when are you planning on telling the others?" he wanted to know.

"They'll just get upset if I wanna set off on my own. They have no reason to protest, anyway. Those caves are probably our only chance to survive."

"Oh. So we're… not telling them?"

"I say no."

I lay back down then, my head right above Zombie's heart. I listened to it beating for a while, thinking that this might be the most beautiful sound in the world. In fact, I could've listened to it for hours, and I would've been fine staying there with Zombie all night. But I knew that Sullivan had probably gone to sleep with her brother and somebody had to keep watch in the hallway.

So after a couple minutes, I finally found the nerve to get up.

"Ringer, you gotta know that I'm not okay with you leaving", Zombie said as I moved away from him. "But I can see your point, and I'm willing to let you go if you just… promise me something."

I sat on the edge of the bed, my back to him, and sighed. "You know I'm not doing promises."

"I just need to know that you're coming back", he explained quietly.

"I told you I'll be back."

Zombie hesitated. "Yeah, well, I think I'll need some proof."

"Proof", I repeated, vaguely guessing what he was up to.

"One kiss, Ringer. One kiss and I'll let you go without resistance, I promise."

"See? That's exactly the problem", I told him. "You're spilling that word out far too casually. But I'm not gonna give you a promise just like that, and I'm certainly not gonna kiss you."

He snorted. "Wow, that was quite a statement. No kiss, then."

"Yeah. No kiss."

I was about to stand up and leave when I felt Zombie's hand on my arm. I turned around and found him looking at me through wide eyes. "But you're coming back, right? I mean, you'll _try_?"

I narrowed my eyes at him. "I'm not planning on going on a suicide mission, if that's what you mean." Then it began to dawn on me, and I added: "Yes, of course I'll try."

It was the closest thing to a promise that I could handle, but Zombie seemed okay with it. He gave me a tight smile and released his grip on my arm.

"At least there's one good thing about all this, huh?" he said before I turned for the door.

Curiously, I looked at him one last time. "And what's that?"

 **"You smiled."**

* * *

The next morning, after Zombie had pressed another brochure into my hand and talked me through the directions for what felt like the hundredth time, we just stood there in the lobby of that crappy motel and waited. For what, I didn't even know.

I guess I didn't want to leave and he didn't want to make me. But I had to, obviously, and the situation was beginning to feel really awkward.

Zombie tried to sneak a goodbye kiss off me, but I turned him down once again. Making such a promise meant a great responsibility; one that I wasn't prepared to take over. At least not in that moment, when I could practically feel our time – _Zombie's_ time – running out.

The only promise I made before I left was a silent one. I promised myself that I would get Zombie to these caves unharmed and in time. I'd been the one who shot him, so it had to be me who pulled him out of this, right?

I knew it had to be me. And I knew, as soon as I looked into his eyes, that I would never forgive myself if anything happened to him.

That panic attack last night – it had been a signal, a wake-up call. Zombie was still feverish, of course, and I was secretly surprised that he'd even managed to get onto his feet. We really couldn't wait much longer or he wouldn't make it to the caves.

It was that thought that pushed me forwards, in the end. We said our goodbyes and then I forced myself to go, all the while thinking about Zombie's eyes; the hidden pain and unreachable despair in them.

Once I'd turned away from him, I didn't look back. If I had, I would've lost the strength to go on.

That was the last time I saw Zombie.


End file.
